


New Year's Kiss

by NotALemon



Category: Scott Pilgrim (Comics), Scott Pilgrim - All Media Types, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Break Up, But It's Not Important To The Plot, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Bar, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, New Year's Kiss, Pining, Scott Cries A Lot, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Wallace Just Has Problems, hug him, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 13:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12190464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotALemon/pseuds/NotALemon
Summary: When Envy breaks up with Scott, Scott pines after her. Wallace helps Scott get his shit together, pining hopelessly after Scott the entire time.





	New Year's Kiss

Envy laid back on Scott’s couch, curling a lock of Scott’s hair between her fingers with clear disdain on her face. “You need a haircut.”

“I do?!” Scott made quick eye contact with her, and then Wallace. 

“I like your hair,” Wallace said. 

Envy glared at him. “It makes you look like a hippie.”

“A _hot_ hippie.” Wallace gave Envy an ice-cold glare. 

Envy huffed. “I’m going to the bathroom.” She pushed herself off the couch and strutted out of the room. 

“I hate her,” Wallace said to Scott after he was sure she left.

Scott gave him an odd look. “I love her.”

Wallace’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach. “You love her? But-” he cut himself off, unable to say something horrible about someone Scott loved. “You’re happy?”

“I’m very happy! She’s so pretty and talented and nice.” Scott’s face was the picture of lovestruck. 

Wallace resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m glad.” Wallace knew he was lying through his fucking teeth, but Scott looked so damn happy…

Even Scott’s sighs were lovestruck. “I think I see a future with her.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

-|-

Wallace saw the way Scott looked at her, and he knew she didn’t deserve half the love Scott gave her, but he just kept giving it and she kept taking it. He was blind. 

Was Wallace envious? Yes. Yes, he was. 

“You’re too good for her,” he whispered one morning while Scott was still asleep. “She doesn’t deserve you.”

Scott snored on. 

-|-

Scott looked into the mirror with pure horror the leaked from his eyes to his face. “Wallace”

Wallace didn’t look up from his newspaper. “Yes?”

“Does my hair look bad?”

“It looks like it always does.” 

“You didn’t even look!”

Wallace looked up from an article about some restaurant opening to see Scott’s awful haircut. “It’ll grow back.” He pushed himself off the recliner to run a hand through Scott’s hair (or what was left of it) like he normally did. “You still look hot.” 

Scott nodded and brushed off his shirt. “Do I look good?”

“You look hot.” Wallace cocked his head to get a better look at all of Scott. “I’d date you.”

Scott stumbled out the door, leaving Wallace to finish his pre-party drinking before heading out to the New Year’s party he planned on going to (opposed to the others he was skipping). 

-|-

Wallace wasn’t a stranger to drinking, and he wasn’t a stranger to drinking until the world spun when he thought too hard (or at all). He wasn’t in that state yet, but even thinking about it made his head pound. 

So when he walked through the streetlight-lit darkness (stupid money, running out before he could get a bus ticket) and saw a body on the road, he logically sat next to it and stared at it, though it was too dark to tell if the body was dead or alive. 

It started groaning, so obviously it was alive. 

“Envy…”

Oh, it was Scott. Scott was lying in the middle of the road, groaning Envy’s name, and had quite possibly the worst haircut Wallace had seen in his life. He was also probably drunk off his ass, as he tended to be. 

“It’s Wallace.” Wallace smiled down at him, even though Scott couldn’t see it in the darkness. “Do you want some help up?”

Scott stuck out both his arms and made grabby hands for Wallace’s shirt. Wallace sighed, happy (for the first and only time) that Envy had harped on Scott about losing weight. 

“You want me that badly? I knew I was irresistible, but I didn’t know I was _that_ irresistible.” Wallace helped Scott off the ground and wrapped an arm around his shoulder to steady him. 

Scott shook his head so hard his entire body shook with it and held one of his legs straight out in front of him, kicking Wallace’s arm. 

“You don’t want me to pick you up, sweetie. You weigh too much.” 

“Envy said that.”

Wallace’s blood boiled. “She a bitch. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You want me to carry you? I’ll carry you.” Wallace, in an act of almost superhuman strength, picked Scott up bridal style. It was only possible because Envy had made sure Scott lost weight. He still wasn’t happy about the fact that Envy had called Scott “fat” and “a pig”, but Scott was at least easier to pick up. 

Scott buried his nose in Wallace’s neck and whimpered into it. “Envy…”

Wallace carried him all the way to the shitty little apartment and dumped him onto the bed unceremoniously. “You’re lucky you’re hot.” His arms ached from carrying Scott, even though Scott was fifteen or so pounds lighter than the last time Wallace attempted to carry him. Maybe Wallace had more muscle, but that wasn’t likely. 

“Envy,” Scott moaned. 

“Envy’s a bitch,” Wallace grumbled, “and she doesn’t deserve you. You’re better than her.” Wallace tugged off his coat and threw it off to the side. “Did you even get your New Year’s kiss?”

Scott shook his head hard again. 

Wallace sighed. “That’s rough.” He kicked off his shoes and fell (still fully clothed) face-first onto the bed, wrapping an arm around Scott’s shoulders and pulling him close. “And Envy broke up with you?”

“Envy!” Scott’s voice cracked in the middle and was probably the saddest thing Wallace had ever heard. He almost wanted to cry for Scott, but settled on petting Scott’s barely-there hair and giving Scott a little peck on the cheek. 

Scott blinked at him, wide-eyed. “You kissed me.”

“You didn’t get a New Year’s kiss. It’s bad luck.”

“’D’you ge’un?”

“More than one,” Wallace said. 

“Nng.” Scott squeezed his eyes shut and rolled onto his back. “’S it m’hair? ’S that why?”

“She broke up with you because she’s a bitch and you can do so much better. You’re too good for her.”

Scott groaned out an answer and promptly fell asleep. 

He was sleeping like a rock when Wallace got up (with a moderate hangover) and prepared a glass of water and an Advil for when Scott woke up. He felt like Mother goddamn Theresa. 

Scott didn’t just wake up- he ran straight to the bathroom and started puking his guts up. Wallace sighed, picked up the glass and Advil, and took them to Scott. He didn’t _feel like_ Mother Theresa, he _was_ Mother Theresa. 

Wallace said this all to Scott, but he didn’t get the joke. Maybe he did and was too busy puking up his guts to laugh, but Wallace seriously doubted that. “I’d hold your hair back if you had any,” Wallace said. He’d done that Before Haircut and would do it After Haircut if Scott ever grew out his hair again (and Wallace hoped to every god he thought of that Scott did- short hair didn’t suit him). 

Scott drank the water too fast and puked that up too. Wallace sighed and filled up the glass again from the sink. 

“Drink slowly this time, okay? You don’t want to throw up water. That’s embarrassing, Scott.” Wallace felt like Scott’s father. Even though he loved Scott’s dad (more than his own dad, sometimes), he didn’t want that. 

When Scott finally couldn’t throw up anymore (“Did you even eat last night?” Scott had looked up for a moment before throwing up again.), he downed the Advil with another glass of water slowly because Wallace demanded he did. He finally laid back in bed. 

“Where’s ‘nvy?”

Wallace sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, next to Scott’s head, and stroked his hair. “She broke up with you, Scott.”

Scott’s face contorted into a look of pure horror and sadness that punched Wallace’s heart in the face. “She- what?”

“Oh, baby.” Wallace stroked Scott’s face gently with his fingertips. “I’m sorry.”

“But- I loved her.”

Wallace vowed then and there to kill her the second he saw her, no matter where they were or why she was there. 

-|-

Scott started spending most of his days lying on his side on their bed and sobbing his eyes out over Envy. 

“I bet it’s because of my hair,” Scott said one day. “She hated my hair. That’s it. When it grows out, she’ll love me again.”

Wallace stepped away from the sink to card his wet, soapy hand through Scott’s unwashed hair. It was hard to because Scott’s hair was clipped far too short for anyone to do anything with it, but he still did his best. 

“Scott, she didn’t love you anymore.”

“It’s because my hair’s stupid. When it- when it grows out, she’ll- love me.” Scott sounded like he truly believed it, believed that if he grew out his hair, she’d love him again, that their relationship had gone to shit because of his _hair_. 

Wallace sat next to him and pulled him close. Scott curled up against Wallace’s chest and sobbed hard into his polo. Wallace’s soapy hands soaked through Scott’s thin t-shirt. 

“Oh, _Scott_.” Wallace rubbed his hands in large circles on Scott’s back, making gentle shushing noises and holding him tightly against his chest, doing whatever he could to help Scott. “Scott, she didn’t love you.”

“She loved me!”

Wallace kept rubbing circles on Scott’s back, making more shushing noises and holding him tighter than Scott had probably ever been held before. “Scott, I don’t think she did.”

Scott let Wallace pull him down on the bed to cuddle up next to him in an almost spooning position. “I love her,” Scott whimpered. 

“I know you do.”

Wallace offered Scott a drink after their little cuddle session. 

“I don’t drink,” Scott said.

Wallace froze and gave him a weird look. “Since when don’t you drink?” Wallace drank a little from the martini meant for Scott before drinking his own. “You love drinking!”

Scott stared at his stupid lesbian poster, body tense. “I don’t anymore.”

(Later that night, Scott told him that he’d only stopped drinking because he’d gotten into a huge fight with Envy while he was super drunk and blamed her breaking up with him was because of both that and his haircut. Wallace had to remind him several times that Envy was a mega-bitch who never loved him.)

Wallace fell into his chair and reached for the nearest game controller instead of pressing on. “Do you want to play Final Fantasy II?”

Scott’s entire body perked up, and Wallace handed him the controller and picked up the newspaper instead. He spent most of the time using the paper to hide his face as he checked on Scott. The newspaper never made Wallace smile so softly and gently. 

God, he was in deep. 

-|-

It was hard for Scott to get through the aftermath of his breakup with Envy, and- after he burst into tears the second Other Scott inquired about what had happened to her- Wallace had to ban her name altogether. 

Scott eventually did get to a point where he could function pretty well (“pretty well) for him at that point meant he could make it a couple of days without sobbing about She Who Shall Not Be Named and that he could kinda take care of himself). Wallace, of course, was thrilled, not only because Scott was happier, but also because he could bring home guys and not have to worry about Scott’s sobs disturbing them enough that they left. 

-|-

“You need to get laid!” Wallace knew he said this almost every day, but it was true. Scott hadn’t gotten any in two months, which equaled an eternity in Wallace-time. 

Scott looked up from his borrowed bass, where he was working on a song that sounded familiar, but Wallace couldn’t lay his finger on it. “I don’t need to get laid.” 

Wallace fixed his collar and then his sweater, because he was Wallace fucking Wells, and he always looked perfect. “You can’t let She Who Shall Not Be Named ruin your sex life,” he said, moving forward to ruffle Scott’s hair before remembering Scott didn’t have much hair to ruffle. 

“I should’ve never let you read _Harry Potter_.” 

“You love me.”

Scott froze, and Wallace realized he probably shouldn’t mention “love” at all for a while. “I loved her,” Scott mumbled.”

“Can I pretend you’re talking about a guy?” Wallace cracked a joking smile and shucked his pants. “Scott, you’re killing my sex life.”

“You don’t have to comfort me.”

“You laid in the middle of the snowy road groaning your ex-girlfriend’s name. I think I should comfort you.”

Scott stared at his bass and strummed the strings. “Wanna… rent a movie or something?”

“Are you asking me on a date, Pilgrim?”

Scott gave him a glare.

“What do you wanna watch?” Wallace threw himself onto the recliner. 

“I have _The Land Before Time_ on DVD somewhere…” Scott laid his bass on the bed and shuffled around the room until he found the case. 

“Wasn’t that due two months ago?”

Scott told him to shut up, and he did, which was not something Wallace Wells does without being kissed or having sex. 

-|-

Scott worked on eating a burrito the size of his head at The Gilded Palace of Flying Burritos, much to Wallace’s disgust and amusement. 

“You’re going to die of heart failure,” he said. 

Scott looked up from his quest to stuff burrito into his face and swallowed the huge mouthful of burrito before attempting to talk. Which was good, because Wallace would’ve strangled Scott if he even considered talking through that much burrito. 

“These are great!” Scott looked at the burrito with almost as much love as when he used to look at She Who Shall Not Be Named. Wallace wondered if he knew that. “I wish I could work here,” Scott sighed.

“Then do it.”

“How?”

“Apply for a job,” Wallace deadpanned. 

Scott shrugged and continued shoveling burrito into his face. 

Wallace rolled his eyes, eating daintily from his plate of tex-mex food. 

-|-

They graduated, somehow. 

Wallace could tell it was a bad day from the moment he woke up. Scott clung to Wallace’s shirt and sobbed into it in his sleep. Wallace had to shake him awake.

Scott’s motions were empty from breakfast to when he got his diploma. He only loosened up when Wallace made him a martini and offered to listen to his problems, and then all he did was cry and cling to Wallace until he fell asleep. 

-|-

Scott wasn’t at the apartment when Wallace got back from work. He started getting the Scott-related anxiety in the pit of his stomach he wouldn’t admit he had (out loud or to himself) until he poured himself a couple drinks. By that time, he’d already gotten his phone out, ready to dial Other Scott for some fun. 

The door flew open. 

“I’m in a band now,” Scott said, throwing his coat on the floor. 

Wallace raised an eyebrow and flipped his phone shut. “You’re in a band now?”

“Yeah. With Stephen Stills and Kim.” Scott kicked off his shoes and threw himself onto the bed. 

“Does this band have a name?”

Scott shook his head. 

“So Kid Chameleon is completely over?”

“It’s been over,” Scott said with such conviction Wallace could’ve almost believed him if he was drunker and stupider. 

“It is _all_ over?”

“Yes, Wallace, it’s all over!”

Wallace cracked a small, lopsided smile. “I’m proud of you.”

Scott mumbled something about taking a shower and stumbled into the bathroom. 

-|-

“I’m getting weak,” Wallace said, staring at the door outside of Stephen’s house. “Why else would I be here?” 

“You gotta hear us. We’re, like, the best band ever.” Scott looked pretty damn confident. Wallace remained skeptical. 

Stephen answered the door, hair still a long mess. He stared blankly at Wallace. 

“I brought Wallace,” Scott said. 

“Why’d you bring him?”

“You need someone to tell you guys if you rock or suck.” Wallace ran his hand along Stephen’s arm. “Do you guys rock, or do you suck?” His voice lowered to his “bedroom voice”; the one that almost guaranteed he’d be bringing a guy home. 

Stephen sighed heavily out of his nose and stepped aside to let them in. 

Wallace watched them from the couch and had to admit that they were mediocre at best. He did enjoy watching Scott jump around as he played (like the dork he was) and shamelessly checking out Stephen (he’d be much hotter, Wallace thought, if he cut his hair), but that was about it. 

“You guys suck,” he said, and they do. Scott sucked the most. 

They didn’t exactly look pleased with his observation. 

“We don’t suck,” Scott said later on while they were shopping for groceries like goddamn adults. Well, Wallace was shopping like a goddamn adult- Scott busied himself with staring longingly at the expensive stuff he wanted and asking if he could ride in the cart. 

“You guys suck a lot.” Wallace compared the prices of two different olive oils and chose the less expensive but shitter one (because it’s hard to get good olive oil on a budget). “ _You_ suck, at least.” 

“I do not suck!”

Wallace gave him a look over the shopping list. “Scott, you played three right notes the entire practice.”

“I just need to practice!”

“Or pick a different instrument.” Wallace pushed the cart into a different aisle. 

Scott grumbled under his breath about instruments and music. 

“You know you love me.”

-|-

Wallace threw open the door after work, fingers and toes almost frozen from the cold and excepting a noticeably warmer space in the apartment. It was just as cold in there as it was outside. 

Scott shivered on the bed, wrapped in his parka, the sheets, and the comforter. Wallace blinked at him. 

“The heater is out.”

Wallace shook the snow off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. “Is that my sweater?”

“I’m cold!”

“Right.” Wallace took off his jacket (and all other overwear, gloves, scarf, and hat included), removed his sweater-polo combination to put on a thicker sweater, and yanked off his pants before climbing into the bed with Scott. “Looks like it’s time for an emergency cuddle.” 

Scott mumbled under his breath and cuddled up close to Wallace, wrapping his burrito of blankets around both of them. Wallace pushed the two of them until they laid on the bed instead of sat. 

“You’d be warmer if you took off your shirt,” Wallace said. He wiggled up closer to Scott. 

“You want to see me without a shirt.”

“No, there’s science in this. It’s easier to share body heat if we’re wearing basically nothing.”

Scott processed that for a moment before taking off his parka. “This is only so you can see me naked.”

“I can see that anytime.”

Scott looked like he was going to say something. 

“We’re two guys living together, Scott. We’ve seen each other naked.”

“You walk around half-dressed!”

“And you stare.” Wallace smirked at Scott as he blushed hard and shied away from Wallace. “That was a joke, Scott.” 

“Some joke.”

Wallace looked down at Scott for another quip but stopped when he took in the scene properly. Scott, wearing Wallace’s sweater, cuddled up in Wallace’s arms, and Wallace felt his heart try to beat out of his chest. “Feeling warmer now?”

Scott nodded. 

-|-

Wallace thought he could get used to waking up with Scott in his arms, head tucked underneath Wallace’s chin. Scott made sure to protest against it, but whenever Wallace would try to pull away to go to work, he would octopus-cling to Wallace until Wallace physically peeled him off so he wouldn’t be late. 

Two weeks later, their landlord got the heat working again. Scott looked like he had to fight back the urge to collapse into Wallace’s arms when he came to bed the first night after. 

-|-

“I got a job,” Scott announced as he walked through the door.

Wallace looked up from his book. “You got a job?”

“I got a job!” Scott punched the air. 

“At the burrito place?”

“The Gilded Palace of Flying Burritos.”

“I’m proud of you.” Wallace whipped out his cell phone as Scott shuffled into the bathroom. “Your mom is too,” he called through the door. 

Scott stepped out of the bathroom to find Wallace handing him the ringing landline. “It’s for you.”

“Thanks,” Scott said. He answered the phone. 

“Scott! You got a job?!” Stacey sounded absolutely elated. 

“Yes, I got a job.” Scott heard his mother in the background, talking to his father about how Scott had gotten a job. “Thanks for telling my family, _Wallace_.” 

Wallace shrugged. “It’s not like I told them you were gay or anything.”

Stacey didn’t even gasp. “You’re gay?” 

Stacey shook his head hard. “I’m not gay!” 

“You love me,” Wallace said.

“Next thing we know, you’ll get a new girlfriend,” Stacy said. 

Scott swallowed. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I’m still in my mourning period.”

Stacey sighed. “You’ve been in your mourning period for months.” 

The second Scott got off the phone with Stacey (after a long conversation), Wallace dragged him off to Pizza Pizza as a celebratory meal for Scott’s new job. 

“Have I been mourning that long?” Scott’s eyes were huge. 

Wallace fixed him with a stare. “Scott, you haven’t gotten laid in literally months.”

Scott took another piece of pizza and ate it without making eye contact with Wallace. He shrugged. “I didn’t have a lot of sex with her.”

Wallace gave Scott a couple seconds of silence before talking again. “Do you have depression?”

“I don’t have depression,” Scott mumbled to his pizza. 

“You have symptoms of depression.”

“I don’t have depression.” 

“Scott.” Wallace gave Scott another pointed look. 

“Wallace.”

Wallace sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and laid his other hand over Scott’s on the table. “You’re depressed.”

Scott looked down at their hands like he was considering pulling his away before he just left Wallace’s hand where it was. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. 

“Do you want to see a doctor?”

Scott shook his head. 

“Do you want me to stop talking?”

Scott shook his head again. 

Wallace raised an eyebrow. “You want me to keep talking?”

Scott nodded, staring down at his pizza. 

“Lemme tell you about my latest hetero crush.” 

-|-

Scott’s new job presented a lot of opportunities for Wallace, namely: having guys over more often. In fact, Scott walked in on Wallace and some guy with glasses roughly a week after he’d gotten his job. He covered his eyes and turned off the light. 

“Scott! You’re supposed to be at work!” Wallace covered himself with the comforter (only to make Scott more comfortable- he personally didn’t give much of a fuck about nudity). “Tell me you didn’t get fired. Scott, if you got fired from this job-”

“The DoJ shut it down.” Scott fell into the armchair and buried his face in his hands. 

Wallace reached out for his shoulder. “Oh, Scott, you loved that place.”

“I know!”

Wallace’s one night stand tapped on his shoulder. “Is this a threesome?”

Wallace turned to Scott. “Is this a threesome?”

“No,” Scott said, his voice sounding dull and tinny in the room. 

“Oh, Scott.” Wallace pulled Scott closer to him. Scott made a point of staring straight ahead. 

“You’re not wearing-”

“Shh, we’re having a moment.”

“Wallace, I can feel-”

“Scott, if you ruin my moment, I will throw your toothbrush out without buying a new one.”

Scott shut up and dealt with it out of fear of all his teeth falling out. 

-|-

One night in late spring, for some unknown reason, Scott decided to cuddle next to Wallace in the night so hard that Wallace had to wake him up to remove him. 

“Scott,” Wallace said. Scott grumbled and clung tighter to him. “Scott!”

Scott groaned when he opened his eyes. Wallace always thought he looked hot when he woke up, face all innocent as he blinked sleep away. “Nng.”

“I need to go to work.”

“Ng.”

Wallace tried to peel Scott off to no avail. “I’m the only one with a job here. Don’t you like being able to eat?”

Scott buried his face in Wallace’s neck. “Wallace…”

It took all Wallace’s self-control not to pin Scott to the mattress and run his hands through Scott’s sleep-tousled hair. “Scott.”

Scott blinked at him before smiling peacefully, almost drunkenly, eyes half-closed. “Wallace.”

Wallace sighed and tried to push Scott off him again. “Scott, I need to go to work.”

“But ‘m comfortable.”

“Work, Scott, work.”

Scott groaned into Wallace’s ear. Wallace bit hard on his lip before managing to pry Scott off him and get dressed for work. 

Wallace felt eyes on him. “Scott, are you checking me out?”

“No.”

“ _I_ know I’m hot, but I didn’t know _you_ thought I was.” 

Scott made a small noise of protest while Wallace laughed his ass off. 

-|-

Wallace opened the door after work without walking in. “We’re going to the store.”

Scott groaned, but complied. Wallace waited outside the door, reading over his texts, until he heard it open. He didn’t bother to look up from his phone. 

“I have a list.” He held up the list he’d made at work and handed it to Scott. “Did I miss anything?”

“That’s a lot of alcohol,” Scott said.

“I make the money.” Wallace stuck out his hand for the list and looked up from his phone. He did a double take at Scott. Something was off. “Is that my shirt?”

Scott looked down at his shirt. Blue with a large 7 across the chest. Definitely Wallace’s. “Is it your shirt?”

Wallace raised his eyebrows. “Scott, I wear that shirt almost every night.”

“Oh.” Scott made himself smaller. “Do I have to take it off?”

“You can if you want. I don’t have any objections.” Wallace’s eyes traced over Scott’s body appreciatively, ignoring Scott’s dirty look. “I don’t know about you, but I like this view.”

Scott tugged on the edge of his (Wallace’s) shirt. “That’s really gay.” 

“Wearing your roommate’s shirt is pretty gay, Scott.”

Scott’s face lit up pink. 

-|-

Wallace had dragged Scott into the bar with the promise of having a good time. He knew Scott probably wouldn’t have a good time, and so did Scott. Scott mentioned it and Wallace had told Scott that they just needed to get out of the apartment while dragging Scott out the door. 

So he felt like a high schooler at a school dance again, dragging Scott out onto the dancefloor by his wrist and trying to get him to do general gay bar things. 

“I’m not going to grind on you,” Scott yelled over the pounding bass. 

“You’re no fun!” Wallace continued to hold Scott close and at least get him to dance a little. “Loosen up! Dance!”

“I don’t-”

“I’ve seen you dance, Scott,” Wallace almost yelled into Scott’s ear. “You look like a dork, but hot. A hot dork.”

Scott made eye contact with Wallace. “You weren’t supposed to see that!”

Wallace laughed loudly over the music. “You were on the table! Who wasn’t going to see that?”

“Oh God.” Scott tried to bury his face in his hands. Tried being important, because Wallace had a pretty firm grip on one of his wrists, so he could only cover his face with the other. 

“It wasn’t that bad. Remember- hot dork. Girls (and guys) go crazy for hot dorks.”

Scott tried to think over the bass. “I’m not a dork!”

“You wear those sweatbands on your wrists. That’s dorky.” Wallace pulled away to look at Scott’s entire body language- stiff body, even though he kind of swayed whenever Wallace moved, shoulders almost up to his ears, and he even stood a lot closer to Wallace than normal. “You want something to drink?”

Scott’s facial features relaxed. “Yes.”

Wallace dragged him to the bar by his wrist. Scott gave him a weird look about the contact. 

“If you aren’t marked as someone else’s,” Wallace explained, “everyone will try to bring you home.” He stood by the bar while he waited for the tender’s attention. 

“People want to bring me home?”

Wallace ruffled Scott’s hair. “People normally come to these places to pick up a one-night stand.” He spoke from experience: gay bars were great for finding a one-night stand, especially with glasses. 

Scott swallowed and pressed himself to Wallace’s side like Wallace was some sort of safety blanket. Wallace didn’t mind it at all- he wrapped an arm around Scott’s waist and made sure people knew Scott was marked as his. 

“What do you want?”

“Gin and tonic.”

Wallace chuckled. “No going to try anything out? Nothing neon-colored or filled with five different types of vodka?”

Scott looked up at Wallace with his mouth slightly opened and his eyes wide. “Do you want me to die?”

“Well, when you say it like that…”

Scott grinned at him and bumped his shoulder against Wallace’s side. It made Wallace’s heart thud harder against his chest. 

The tender finally got to them. Scott ordered two gin and tonics and Wallace a glowing neon drink with copious amounts of assorted liquors in it. It would’ve knocked Scott out if he took a sip. 

Scott drank from the second of his gin and tonics while leaning against a wall with Wallace, watching Wallace flirting with some guy close to them in silence. 

Wallace was completely engrossed in his conversation until he heard Scott say, very loudly, “I have a Wallace” and cling to the arm that had slipped away from Scott’s waist to hand in the air next to his side. “Hi, Wallace.”

“Scott.” Wallace looked down at him in surprise. “Hey.”

“I was telling this guy about you!” Scott’s eyes begged Wallace to help with his eyes. Wallace got that and wrapped his arm back around Scott’s waist. 

“You were? Interested in a threesome, Scott?”

Scott bit on his bottom lip and struggled to keep up with his bass- and alcohol-riddled brain. “Not tonight.”

“Whatever you want.”

Scott checked to see if the guy was still there (he wasn’t), sighed in relief, and cuddled closer to Wallace’s side. Wallace’s guy was also gone. 

“And there goes my potential date.” 

“Sorry,” Scott mumbled. 

“You should be. I haven’t had sex in a week, Scott. A week!”

Scott looked at the dancefloor. “We should dance.”

“Are you Scott Pilgrim?”

Scott shook his head, dragged Wallace into the mass of moving bodies (moving bodies meaning people grinding against each other), and got close to do his little dance thing. Hopping around like he did when he played bass but holding onto Wallace’s hands and almost pressing himself against Wallace. 

“You still dance like a dork,” Wallace told him. 

“You said I was a hot dork.”

“You _are_ a hot dork.” 

Scott looked up at him with eyes the size of the moon. “You’re hot.”

Wallace blinked at him once. Twice. Three times. “I’m hot?”

“You’re hot, Wallace.” Scott stopped doing his jumping dance steps and pressing himself closer to Wallace. “I like you. A lot.”

“How much is a lot?” Wallace’s arms wrapped around Scott’s waist, holding him close like Wallace had imagined many times before. 

“A lot a lot.”

“A lot as in you love me?”

Terror flashed through Scott’s features before laying his head on Wallace’s chest, closing his eyes almost contently as they both rocked to their own silent, slow song. 

Wallace was going to need another drink. 

-|-

Scott woke with a loud, horrible groan. “I’m never going to another gay bar with you again.”

Wallace laughed at his pain and continued brushing his teeth. “Really?”

“Really. Ugh.”

“You enjoyed it a lot.”

Scott covered his head with his pillow and tried to block out the sounds of Wallace’s laughter. 

-|-

Scott stared at the tv while Wallace drank something he’d thrown together with some assorted tropical fruit-flavored vodka in the spirit of the summer. Typical lazy day. 

“How old were you when you realized you were gay?”

Wallace paused drinking his tropical vodka mix and raised an eyebrow at Scott. “I was twelve, he was fifteen. He has glasses. I realized I wanted to marry him instead of a girl.” Wallace took a suspicious drink, eyes narrowed at Scott equally as suspiciously. “Why?”

“Um.” Scott didn’t break eye contact from the tv.

“Are you having your first gay crush?” Wallace grinned at Scott from behind the rim of his glass while Scott spouted out denials. “Look, Scott, it’s alright if you’re thinking about other guys. It’s the two thousands.”

Scott laughed nervously. “I just wanted to know about your life. And stuff.”

“Right.” Wallace let the subject go, watching whatever shitty movie Scott had turned on for them instead. 

-|-

“This is a good song,” Wallace said to Scott in the local music store. “What band is it?”

“I don’t know.” Scott looked through the Hot New Bands section absently, knowing he didn’t have enough money to afford a new CD. 

Wallace furrowed his eyebrows. “Her voice sounds really familiar…”

The song ended, and the radio DJ announced it was by The Clash at Demonhead. 

“See if they have any CDs. They’re pretty good.” Wallace glanced over at Scott, who hadn’t even chimed in with an opinion or anything. He was staring at a CD case. “Who’s that?” Wallace walked over to peer over Scott’s shoulder to see what was up and froze. 

It was The Clash at Demonhead, and on the cover was-

“Envy,” Scott breathed. 

“We don’t say the e-word here,” Wallace chided half-heartedly. He pried the case from Scott’s hands and put it back with the rest. “How about we go and get some pizza?”

Scott nodded numbly, and left the store with Wallace’s arm around his shoulders, walking like he floated above it all. 

-|-

Scott was used to sleeping heavily by that point, so Wallace had no qualms with bringing home guys to sleep with. Sometimes they’d ask about Scott and what was up with the two of them, to which Wallace would shrug and tell them he was straight, which was good enough for most of them. 

Other Scott, though, knew a lot more than the other guys ever would. 

He stopped Wallace from undressing him. “You love him,” Other Scott said. It wasn’t wistful- he was just stating a fact. 

Wallace wasn’t quite sure what to say, but he knew that his quick sideways glance to Scott was enough of an answer. 

“He’s monogamous,” Other Scott said. 

“I know.”

“You realize you’ll have to choose between us, right?” 

Wallace fell back onto the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. “I know.”

“Are you even ready for commitment?”

“I don’t know.”

-|-

Scott was talking less and playing more bass. It wasn’t like he was improving (he wasn’t- if anything, he was getting worse), but he kept playing the bass at all hours. If he wasn’t playing bass, he’d be watching a movie or playing Final Fantasy II or doing something else that made him scarce. 

Wallace gave him some time to see if it continued. After the whole Envy-Demonhead thing, Scott had been a little… dejected. He came to the conclusion that it wasn’t Envy-related after Scott’s shoulders tensed every time Wallace mentioned Other Scott and immediately walked out of the apartment (per usual) with his shoulders hunched and head down when Other Scott came over. 

“He definitely heard,” Other Scott said when the door slammed shut. 

“He’s a heavy sleeper.”

“I guess he wasn’t asleep.” Other Scott elbowed Wallace. “Like before.”

Wallace nodded. “Like before,” he said. “What do I do?”

Other Scott shrugged. 

-|-

Wallace corned Scott about two weeks into his Weird for Scott behavior. Scott had avoided his offers of Pizza Pizza, so he had to actually _corner_ Scott. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

Scott looked up at him with his huge eyes. “I’m avoiding you?” 

“Scott, I know when you’re avoiding me.” Wallace made sure Scott didn’t have any way of escaping his questions. “Why?”

Scott swallowed. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“You’re avoiding me.”

“You have a thing for me!” Scott looked like he hadn’t meant to say it, and Wallace would guess he didn’t. 

“So you did hear my conversation with Other Scott.” 

Scott pressed himself against the wall. “Yeah.”

Wallace sighed and moved off to the side to fix himself a strong drink. “So you’re freaked out?”

Scott shrugged. 

Wallace made himself a strong drink and made Scott a less-strong one. He handed the less-strong one to Scott before drinking his own. 

“I don’t drink.”

“I’ve seen you drink,” Wallace said.

“It’s Tuesday,” Scott said. 

“It’s not like you have anywhere to go tomorrow.” Wallace rested his forearms on the counter. “Now you know about my little crush. What now?”

Scott stared at his stupid lesbian poster with an intensity Wallace had hardly seen before. “I- I gotta think about it.” 

-|-

Scott managed to talk Wallace into coming to another practice of the newly-christened Sex Bob-Omb. 

Before practice began, Scott pulled Stephen to the side. Wallace just so happened to be eavesdropping on their conversation. 

“What do you want, Scott?”

Scott paused for a moment. “I think I might be gay.”

“Why’re you telling me this?”

“You’re the only guy I really know that’s not Wallace.” 

“You can’t figure this out with Wallace?”

“He wouldn’t let me forget it.”

Wallace snorted silently. 

Stephen paused. “Is this going to distract you from Sex Bob-Omb?”

“No.”

“Well, I hope you figure it out.” 

Wallace made sure he looked like he wasn’t listening in on their conversation when Stephen walked back into the living room. It wasn’t that hard, considering his near-constant look of boredom on. 

-|-

Wallace, in turn for Scott’s forcing him to go to Sex Bob-Omb practice, forced Scott to go to another gay bar. 

“With the intent of getting a man for you, of course.”

“What?” Scott looked up from tying his shoes. 

“You can’t call yourself gay without experimenting.” Wallace looked at what Scott was wearing (like the gay best friend he was) and shook his head. “You won’t get any guys dressed like that.” 

“But I don’t want any guys.”

“You can borrow one of my shirts.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Everything.” Wallace threw Scott a shirt from the closet. “This is going to be big on you,” Wallace said, “but you don’t mind wearing my clothes.” 

Scott looked away and put on Wallace’s shirt. 

-|-

Wallace didn’t wrap his arm around Scott’s waist, but he kept a close eye on Scott and Scott’s drinks when he left them unattended (oh, Scott, so trusting and naive) as Scott talked to a twink-looking guy next to him. 

“- how many guys?” The guy yelled over the pounding bass.

“Um, none!”

The guy looked more than a little intrigued by that, licking his lips and finishing with a bite. He leaned forward to make the conversation more intimate. “You’re a virgin?”

“No! I’ve never been with a guy before…” Scott sipped gingerly from his Coke Zero Wallace watched over and made eye contact with Wallace. His face lit up. “But I have a gay roommate!”

Wallace literally slid into the scene, knowing the odd lighting made his face look off, all angles and odd curves and unusual peaks and valleys, because he’d seen the effect on Scott’s face. “That’d be me.” He held out his hand to the guy. “Wallace Wells, professional homosexual.”

“Professional? Are you a pornstar or prostitute or something?” The guy took his hand anyways, running his fingers along Wallace’s palm when he pulled away. 

“I’m so good at being gay I might as well make it a career.” Wallace smirked charmingly at the guy. 

Scott turned to the bartender and ordered a gin and tonic. He downed it in the time it took for Wallace to start aggressively making out with the guy (less than a minute) and watched them with a not-straight-at-all open-mouthed stare. 

“I thought you didn’t drink,” the guy said. He shrugged it off and gripped Wallace’s lip with his teeth and pulled away until it snapped back into place like a rubber band. “Like what you see?” He gave Scott a heated stare. 

Scott snapped his mouth shut and his face went blank while he thought about what to say. “It’s hot, I guess.”

“Scott’s new to the whole ‘gay’ thing.” Wallace looped his arm around Scott’s shoulders and tugged him close until their faces squished together. 

“He’s just come out,” the guy said. 

Neither of them wanted to say he was wrong, so they didn’t. 

Scott ordered another gin and tonic, and then another, and Wallace watched him quickly deteriorate into Drunk Scott Pilgrim as the night went on and silently warned him about the hangover he’d get. 

Scott definitely knew about the hangover the next morning, when he woke clinging to Wallace like a tired baby koala. 

“Good morning, Scott,” Wallace said. 

“I think I’m going to vomit,” Scott said. He blinked his unfocused eyes and looked at Wallace. The guy they’d been talking to was next to him, completely unclothed, and so was Wallace. Scott was mostly clothed. 

Wallace saw Scott’s face, basically read his mind (homosexual perk), and ran a hand through Scott’s hair comfortingly. “We didn’t have sex with you,” he said. 

Scott sighed, his body relaxing against Wallace’s. “I don’t think I like gay clubs at all,” he groaned. “Why am I hungover?”

“You drank a lot.”

“I don’t drink.”

“You sure did when you drank three gin and tonics.” Wallace turned his head closer to Scott’s, resting his nose against Scott’s soft cheek and taking a deep breath before he let it out in an unsatisfied sigh. “You smell like gay bar.” 

“What does it smell like?”

“Sex and alcohol.” Wallace let his lips brush against Scott’s cheek while he talked, breath warm against Scott’s face and probably smelling vaguely of alcohol. 

“I didn’t have sex.”

“We had sex next to you.”

Scott made a face and cringed at the effort. “I’m never going to a gay club again.”

“They’re nice when you find a guy.”

The guy chose that time to wake up. He gracefully detached himself from Wallace, thanked him, left his number, and slithered out of the apartment. 

Scott laid in bed, complaining about how sucky it was to have a hangover and how he was never going to drink again until Wallace shoved a glass into his hands and forced him to drink it. 

“It’s a hangover remedy,” he says. “It always works.”

Scott drank it all and handed it back to Wallace. Wallace laughed good-naturedly at him until Scott gripped his wrist, dragging him back into the bed, and grumbled something about him not leaving until he felt better. 

They spent the entire day in bed. Wallace didn’t have any objections. 

-|-

Wallace caught Scott staring at him while he was walking around the apartment pantsless. “I know I have a nice figure, Scott, but it’s nice to know you think so too.” 

“I- Put on pants! Argh, you’re scarring me for life!” Scott covered up his eyes far too late and theatrically for Wallace to believe he was truly scarred for life. 

“Whatever you say.” Wallace stood in front of the stove, throwing some bacon into a pan and turning up the heat a touch. “You want some bacon?”

Scott nodded awkwardly. He ran a hand across his face. “Wallace?”

“Yes?” Wallace looked away from the bacon to see Scott looking uneasy and almost exasperated. 

“I think I might be gay.”

Wallace nearly dropped the spatula and just barely recovered by flipping the bacon. “That’s quite the revelation.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what brought you to this conclusion?” Wallace laid the spatula on the counter, sat down in his chair, and laid his hand on Scott’s knee in a comforting way, rubbing his thumb in circles against Scott’s jeans. 

Scott tapped his fingers against his leg. “I don’t know. I’ve been noticing guys lately, and- they’re hot.”

“Guys are very hot.” Wallace squeezed Scott’s knee. “You’re having a sexuality crisis.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s-”

“It’s a sexuality crisis. I can see it on your face.” Wallace gave him a bright, lopsided smile. “It’s adorable.”

Scott glared at Wallace. “This is serious!”

“It’s not that hard to figure out you’re gay.”

“Maybe not when you’re twelve! I’m twenty-three, and I’m just figuring it out.” Scott grabbed the collar of Wallace’s blue polo and brought their faces closely almost desperately. “I don’t know what to do!” 

Wallace patted Scott’s knee. “It’ll be fine.” He tried to stand, but Scott still had a hand in his shirt. Wallace gave him a look. “Do you want the bacon to burn?”

“No…” Scott let go of Wallace’s shirt and watched him straighten it before he returned to lovingly tending the bacon. It sizzled and spat fat. Scott moved off the bed to lean against the fridge, tilting his head to the side to watch Wallace. 

“You’re not being subtle with your gaping,” Wallace said. He thrust a plate of bacon into Scott’s hands and dragged his finger along one of Scott’s. 

Scott skittered away to the bed, staring at his plate of bacon the whole time. 

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” Wallace flopped down in his chair with his own plate of bacon in his hands. “I’m not your gay crush, am I?”

Scott scarfed down bacon instead of answering Wallace. When he finished, he jumped off the bed, leaving the plate in his place, and ran out the door without grabbing his coat. “I gotta go!”

Wallace shook his head as Scott opened the door back up to get his coat. 

-|-

It wasn’t that Scott wasn’t a heavy sleeper anymore (he was- he would sleep through Wallace’s kicks and snores and attempts to push him off the bed to go to work at a reasonable hour), but Wallace was starting to question if Scott was obsessed with his sex life. 

Wallace brought home a random guy from a bar with glasses (God, he was so into glasses it wasn’t funny), and was in the middle of a passionate moment of passion when he accidentally made eye contact with a very clearly aroused Scott. It was probably the most awkward thing to happen to them in a long time, and Scott didn’t mention it in the morning. 

-|-

“Can I only be half gay?”

Wallace glanced up from his newspaper. “Half gay?”

Scott wasn’t chopping up carrots anymore- he stared down at the carrots on the cutting board (they had a cutting board?) with his back to Wallace. “I don’t think I’m actually gay.” 

“Bisexual.”

“What?” Scott looked at Wallace over his shoulder. 

“The word for liking both. Bisexual.”

Scott mouthed the word silently, trying to get used to the feeling of it in his mouth before testing it on his tongue. “Bisexual.”

Wallace smiled warmly at his newspaper. “Finally find something you like?” He peered over the top of the paper subtly. 

Scott nodded before he returned to his carrots. Wallace caught a glimpse of Scott’s stupid smile. 

-|-

Wallace brought it up a week or so later, after bursting in through the door late at night (not unusual for him) and falling across Scott’s legs. He knew they had this unspoken agreement not to talk about what was going on between them, but he needed to spit it out before it started eating away at him. 

“Scott, I know you have a crush on me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Scott’s voice was an odd mix or panicked and tired that fluctuated with each word. 

Wallace flopped around the bed, fish-like and ungraceful, until he was almost face-to-face with Scott. “I’ve seen you checking out my ass. I saw you after I had sex with that one guy with the glasses.”

“Which one?”

“The ginger.”

Scott’s eyes widened and Wallace could hear his heart pound. “I don’t remember that! You bring home too many guys for me to remember them. I was probably asleep.”

“I saw you. You were awake, and you were _turned on_.” Wallace traced Scott’s cheek with feather-light fingers and obviously checked the hell out of Scott’s mouth. He scooted closer so their noses were touching. 

“I wasn’t turned on!”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Wallace said. 

Scott rolled onto his back to avoid Wallace’s gaze and squirmed out of Wallace’s touch. “I’m not lying.”

“Whatever you say,” Wallace mumbled. He faceplanted onto a pillow and had to turn his head to face Scott so he could breathe. He also (a more impressive feat, in his opinion) resisted the urge to text Stacey all about the gay shirt Scott’s been doing. 

For a couple seconds. 

It can’t be said that temptations don’t get the best of Wallace Wells. 

The sound of the phone ringing pierced the air next to Scott’s face. He groaned and answered. 

“You’re gay?” Wallace heard Stacey’s voice through the receiver. 

Scott swallowed and sent a glare at Wallace. “What?”

“You’re gay?!”

“I’m not _gay_ , but…”

“Oh my God, Scott!” Stacey paused. “You dated all those girls even though you were gay?!”

“I’m not gay!”

“That’s not what Wallace said.”

Scott gave Wallace a thoroughly hurt look that made Wallace’s stomach churn. “Wallace!”

“I never said you were gay,” Wallace said. 

“He says he never said I was gay.”

“He told me you had a gay crush.”

“But I’m not- why are you even concerned?” Scott pulled the blankets closer around himself until Wallace had to pull some back. 

“You’re my brother. I have every right to be concerned.”

“Do I listen to every rumor Wallace says about you?”

“Wallace never has any rumors about me.”

Wallace smirked into the pillow. “She’s right,” he said. 

“Whatever. Since when have you been gay?” Stacey sounded just as annoyed as ever (when was she not?) and very interested. 

“I’m not-”

“Since when have you had a gay crush?” 

Scott looked around the room. “Since a while ago. Does it matter?” 

“Of course it matters!” Stacey’s voice started to get angry and exasperated, and Wallace could imagine the look on her face (complete disgust). She got a touch quieter, her voice a little softer, and Wallace had to struggle to hear what she was saying. “You have a thing for Wallace?”

Scott scoffed. “I don’t-”

“Don’t lie, Scott. You have a thing for Wallace?”

Scott glared at Wallace, receiving a drunken little smile in return that made his breath hitch. “I- I don’t know.”

Stacey didn’t sound impressed. “Figure it out.”

“I, uh-”

Wallace started to trace his fingers over Scott’s neck in little patterns that made him bite his lip to keep from chuckling. 

“-I gotta go.” Scott hung up just as Stacey started to protest against him doing just that and slammed the phone onto the receiver. “What are you doing?!” 

“You’re hot,” Wallace said. “Really hot.”

Scott mumbled something Wallace couldn’t make out (mostly because he was so busy trying to find ways for them to make out) before Wallace fell asleep. 

-|-

Scott was acting weird, and not Normal Scott Pilgrim Weird (as Wallace affectionately called it), but full-on Weird For Scott Pilgrim (another Wallace term). Wallace guessed it had something to do with the time he’d come home drunk and woke up nose-to-cheek with Scott. It was one of those rare nights he came to the apartment after clubbing he didn’t bring home some guy (preferably with glasses) or Other Scott. 

“You’re acting Weird,” Wallace told Scott matter-of-factly while they sat in Pizza Pizza that he’d called His Treat (aka, Scott Intervention). Scott fell for it every time, and it was actually starting to get sad sometimes. “Weird For Scott Weird,” he clarified, picking up a piece of pizza. 

“Ugh, Intervention.”

Wallace reached across the table to lay his hand over Scott’s in the most comforting way he could. “Scott, I want to know why you’re doing this.”

“I don’t know, Wallace. You flirted with me and told Stacey I was gay.” Scott glowered at Wallace like his trust was somehow betrayed (odd, because he knew Wallace’s a gossip) and then glared at their hands. 

“I tell Stacey everything,” Wallace said, in his Authoritative voice, “and I never told her you were gay. I said you have a gay crush. It makes sense, after She Who Shall Not Be Named.”

Scott snorted. “I’m totally over her.” 

Wallace raised an eyebrow, feeling like there was a missing zoom out of his face. 

“Alright, I’m not over her yet,” Scott admitted to the pizza. 

The corners of Wallace’s mouth quirked up enough to be noticeable (that somehow still managed to be lopsided), but not to crinkle up the corners of his eyes. “There’s my Scott.” 

“I’m not your Scott,” Scott said. “I’m not anyone’s Scott.”

“Good boy.” Wallace patted Scott’s hand with his own. 

-|-

Sex Bob-Omb somehow got a gig as the opening act for a somewhat larger headliner band and went out for pizza afterward. Wallace had gone alone because Other Scott was going whatever Other Scott did whenever he wasn’t with Wallace. 

So instead of sitting off to the side with Other Scott, Wallace sat hip-to-hip with Scott the entire time, listening to the conversations around him and adding his own sass-tastic commentary. 

Kim glared at them. “I didn’t realize you two were roommates with benefits.”

Wallace and Scott shared a look: suggestive on Wallace’s end, confused on Scott’s. Wallace laid his hand on Scott’s knee. 

“We’re not together,” Scott said. 

“Yet,” Wallace added, throwing an even more suggestive look at Scott. 

“I can’t believe the great Scott Pilgrim, womanizer, is gay.”

“I’m not gay!”

“Right.” Kim crossed her arms and looked out the window. 

When Scott turned to Wallace, all he got was a laugh and an arm around his shoulders. He leaned into the touch. 

Scott didn’t talk too much for the rest of the night until he shut the door to their apartment. “You have a thing for me.”

The entire apartment felt too small and suffocating around Wallace as Scott told him his revelation. This was new. “I’m impressed. It only took you-” Wallace looked at his wrist like he’d been keeping track of how long it’d taken Scott to figure this out (he had), “- _three years_.” 

“But-” Scott threw himself on the bed, taking up as much space as possible and staring up at the ceiling like it had wronged him. “You’ve always acted like that.”

“Wonder why,” Wallace said dryly. 

“Have you- always had a thing for me?”

Wallace patted his shoulder awkwardly. “There you go.”

Scott covered his face with his hands before running them over his face with a loud, overdramatic sigh. “I can’t believe you’ve liked me since we _met_.” 

“What can I say?” Wallace fell onto the mattress next to him with a more casual elegance. “You’ve always been hot, even when you cut your hair too short.”

Scott tried to cover his hair with his hands or his arms or _something_ , but Wallace held his wrists in place. 

“I like your hair long.”

“I look like a hippie!” Scott fought against Wallace’s strong grip. “Wallace, let me cover up my hair!”

Wallace gave him a gentle look. “You don’t need to.”

Scott looked at Wallace like he didn’t believe him (Wallace thought he should call it the “I’m Looking At Wallace” look because he’d been getting it too often lately). “Sure,” he said. 

Wallace, seeming a little miffed about that, pressed his nose to Scott’s cheek and followed up with a ghost of a kiss where Scott’s jawline began. Scott stared at him out of the corner of his eyes. 

“I like your hair long,” Wallace said against Scott’s face, feeling the chills wrack Scott’s body. 

Scott let out a small breath. “It’s long?!”

“I like it like this. It looks like you.” 

“I look like a hippie.” 

Wallace’s eyes burned with Envy-related fire. “You’re not a hippie. You’re hot.”

Scott looked at him with wide eyes. “You think I’m hot. You really think I’m hot.”

“I do.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Scott said. 

“We don’t have to have sex,” Wallace said. 

Scott blinked at him. “We don’t?”

“We don’t.” 

Scott cuddled up next to Wallace. Wallace kissed Scott’s cheek before he moved onto Scott’s neck. He kept it gentle, and Scott sighed in what sounded like relief and his body relaxed against Wallace’s. If he thought Wallace was afraid to full-on kiss him (Wallace was), he didn’t mention it. 

-|-

Wallace didn’t know what they were doing at that point, and he honestly didn’t care, because he was fine with helping Scott figure out (or, more accurately, get comfortable with) his sexuality as long as it involved passionate cuddling and kissing. 

Waking up pressed against Scott and kissing his neck until he woke up; holding hands while walking down the sidewalk; practically sitting in each other’s laps when watching movies. All perks in Wallace’s eyes. 

“These movies suck,” Wallace complained into Scott’s ear while watching whatever Scott had put on. 

Scott crossed his arms and pressed his back in Wallace’s chest. They’d agreed, after a disastrous first try, that Scott would sit in Wallace’s lap due to being the shorter one. Wallace had no objections to having Scott in his lap. 

“It still sucks, but at least now I have something to distract me.” Wallace nibbled on Scott’s neck. 

Scott leaned his head against the place where Wallace’s shoulder met his neck, interrupting his affectionate little bites. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “How did you know you were in- with Other Scott?”

Wallace froze before carding a hand through Scott’s unruly curls. “It’s not like that,” he said softly. 

“You don’t-? But-”

“But what?”

Scott stared at the ceiling with more intensity than was necessary. “How can you be with someone if you aren’t in- with them?”

Wallace, for once was at a loss for words. “It’s not that I don’t love him. I do. We’re more friends with benefits or less-serious boyfriends. We weren’t going to get married. I didn’t see a future with him.” Wallace froze. 

“Wallace?”

“I see a future with you.”

“With jetpacks?” Scott’s voice was hesitant, like he thought he was saying something outrageously stupid. 

“Not exactly with jetpacks, but yeah.” Wallace’s eyes flicked over to see the really hot protagonist say his line before returning to Scott’s face. “Do you see a future with us?”

Scott stared at the tv, where the action switched to the love interest getting kidnapped. “With jetpacks, I think,” he whispered. 

Wallace adjusted his arm to wrap around Scott’s waist tightly, saying “he’s mine” to a nonexistent audience. 

-|-

Wallace was used to one-night stands and not getting attached, not things being permanent. The closest thing he’d had to a boyfriend since he was fifteen was Other Scott, and he knew they had their own form of open commitment, but still. 

The rock in his life, his anchor, was always Scott Pilgrim. Sad? Yes. But Scott’s all he had, and he’ll take it every time. 

“You’re my rock,” Wallace told him. 

Scott blinked and cocked his head to the side. “I’m a rock? Like, I rock?” 

Wallace thought about going with that for a moment. “Scott, you’re my only constant. You are a rock.”

Scott adjusted himself in Wallace’s arms until he was lying on top of Wallace, forearms supporting him on either side of Wallace’s chest. He blinked at Wallace again. “Wallace?”

“Yes?”

“Do you really see a future with us?”

Wallace words stuck in his throat like rubber cement before he forced them out. “I do. I really do.”

Scott laid his head on Wallace’s chest contentedly, ear over Wallace’s heart. 

“Is that a ‘me too’?”

Scott nodded. 

-|-

Scott knocked on the door to his parents’ house, holding Wallace’s hand in a death grip and standing stiffly. 

“Hey, it’ll be fine.” Wallace rubbed along Scott’s hand with his thumb to soothe him. “This won’t be that different than any other time.”

“But we’re-”

Scott’s mom opened the door with a warm greeting and swept them into the warmth of the house, not noticing their interlocked hands. 

“Hello, Mrs. Pilgrim.”

“You don’t have to be so polite, Wallace.” 

“I thought I should reintroduce myself. There are new conditions.”

Scott’s mom blinked at them before her eyes swept around both of them for clues as to what the hell Wallace meant. Her eyes widened when she saw their hands. Scott swallowed hard and tightened his already-tight grip on Wallace’s hand. 

“Oh, Scott! You found someone!” She hugged them both. Wallace cast Scott an “I told you so” look, and Scott scoffed at him. 

Stacey had a field day when she saw them, shouting about how Wallace should’ve told her they were together, what the hell, and they were good together. That made Scott’s dad enter the room and offer his support for them. Even Lawrence showed up to say he was happy. 

Dinner was nice, and they left with an equally nice goodbye and the promise of returning sometime soon. 

Wallace closed the apartment door behind them and threw his coat to the side. “Your family stiff loves me,” he said. 

Scott scoffed and removed his own coat, tossing it on top of Wallace’s before pulling Wallace onto the bed. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Scott did. 

-|-

Scott was doing his best to chop up onions. It was pretty good. He hadn’t sliced his hand open on accident and only dropped the knife twice. The slices were unevenly-sized and lopsided, but he was so proud of himself that Wallace didn’t want to ruin it for him by fixing them. 

Wallace heard the knife stop slicing against the cutting board, heard Scott mumbled “oh no”, and whipped around to face him and check he hadn’t cut off a finger or something. Scott wasn’t holding his hand like it was hurt or anything, so Wallace raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I’m in- love with you,” Scott said, like that explained every question Wallace had and more. He held Wallace’s face in his hands to make steady eye contact and swallowed hard. “Wallace, I’m in love with you.”

Wallace couldn’t help but smile at him. It wasn’t lopsided like usual; it was full-on, all sunshine and rainbows and shit and he couldn’t help but kiss Scott hard. 

Scott ended up pressed against the fridge with Wallace pressed against him, making out furiously. 

“Can you say it again?”

“‘Fuck, Wallace’.” 

Wallace pulled away from his mouth. “No, the other one.”

Scott’s face lit up with recognition. “I love you, Wallace.”

“I love you too, Scott.”

-|-

Wallace thought being next to Scott was what bliss felt like. It was wonderfully routine, and Wallace was perfectly fine with saying he was in perfect domestic bliss. 

Sometimes one (Wallace) would wake up before the other (Scott) and wake him up with a blowjob or some kisses, or Scott would even attempt to cook some bacon that he miraculously wouldn’t burn to a crisp, or (sadly enough) Wallace would have to go to work before Scott would have the chance to wake up. 

When Wallace was at work, Scott would watch tv (sometimes cuddling Wallace’s pillow, but Wallace wasn’t supposed to know about that) and when Wallace got home, they’d make out a little and Scott would cook for them (“like a housewife!” Wallace would coo, making Scott go red and mumble that he wasn’t a housewife). 

If Scott didn’t have practice, they’d cuddle on the mattress. If Scott did, Wallace would go out and get drunk. They’d normally have sex at one point or another. Sometimes Other Scott would get involved and they’d have a hell of a threesome (Scott found out he kind of liked being the center of attention). 

Wallace and Scott would go out for pizza twice a week (once with Other Scott). It was nice. It was very nice. 

“I like this,” Wallace said late one night. “I like this a lot.”

“Me too.” Scott rested his head on Wallace’s chest, over his heart. 

Wallace ran his hand through Scott’s long hair. “How about giving me a New Year’s kiss?”

“Why?”

“It’s good luck.” 

“Hmm.” Scott pulled his head off Wallace’s chest and tilted it up. Wallace gave him a deep kiss and rested his hands on Scott’s ass. 

“That’s very good luck.”

**Author's Note:**

> This took me way too long to do. I just finished editing like ten minutes ago. What is my life. Wallace is so OOC. Scott is so OOC. I needed to post this because it took so long.  
> Sigh.


End file.
